Jack
by Arones
Summary: the death of Jack the Ripper


"Jack"

**A/N: I am a total Druitt/Magnus shipper, but I also know it's never going to happen—so maybe this way it can. Set in the future and is a mellow piece. Oh yeah and I do not own any of the characters.**

It took him years to come to her. She had been waiting, rather patiently, for him to appear at her door with a request. For some reason, she knew it would be soon and had opted to lower the EM shield that was protecting her. He would never have forgiven her had she forced this on him—he had barely forgiven her for her _betrayal_ all those years ago, at the beginning of their lives.

She awoke to the feeling of his hand on her thigh and his fingers caressing her cheek. He brushed aside stray strands of hair. "John." She sat up, pushing his hands away from her.

"It has been far too long, love." His eyes were looking directly into her, seeing only the Helen he wanted to see—the one she wished she could still be.

"You stopped answering my calls, John. Where did you go?"

His deep voice hummed before his reply, "Here and there."

"Always specific, John." She was watching him as he was watching her—but she lost her patience. "What do you want?"

The timbre in his voice rose, but he didn't get up from the bed. "Just thought I would visit. It has been far too long since I have seen you, love. Perhaps I just needed a visit home."

Her eyes didn't stray from him for some time, testing him, taking in the way he held himself. Finally making a decision she spoke, "Come on then, it's the middle of the night." Scooting over she pulled him into her bed behind her. Laying her head once again on a pillow she wrapped his hand around her middle, settling in for the night. He didn't speak, didn't question fearing she would change her mind in an instant. His hand felt skin along her stomach as she breathed in and out; moving closer he curled his body into hers. She signed and fell into slumber.

With his hand propped under his head he watched her sleep. Her body barely moved: only the slight rise and fall of her chest. He used to love doing this, watching her when she was most relaxed—when she wasn't thinking. She was so beautiful, his Helen.

He must have fallen asleep because when he woke she was rising from the warmth of the covers. Again, he didn't speak, ignoring the urge to comment on her beauty, on the time that had passed, and the reasoning that had brought him to her bed. This was not an abrupt decision on his part, but forty years had gone by since he had seen her face and in that time he found the answers he was looking for, or at least a very distinct direction of where his answers lay in wait.

She left for work, it was early, but that was Helen. She knew why he had come, she knew perhaps before he did, but still she would wait for him to come to his own conclusions. Traversing her way to the kitchens for morning tea, as was her routine, she began to think of the last time she had seen him. Of how much had changed—they were all gone now and she didn't want to replace them. He didn't know, he would ask eventually, but would avoid the topic at first.

She went through the motions without thinking, burning her hand slightly on the kettle when she reached for the heaven it would bring to her. John teleported in next to her, a smile on his face, "I haven't had tea since I was here last." His voice was like chocolate, smooth and dark.

"I wouldn't survive that long."

He grinned then sipping and groaning in pleasure. "It has most certainly been far too long since I have indulged myself in the simplicities of life."

"You keep saying that, John."

"It's the truth."

She paused, looking at him over the rim of her mug. "Is that why you're here, John?" So much for not pushing him, but the man had a way of making her on edge.

He shrugged, "Tesla got bored of me."

Nikola, another pain in her life, so that's where the man had been: "Good to see the pain is still in the realm of the living." Leaning on her heels she turned to leave the room needing to be in her office for a teleconference with London.

"Come to think of it, perhaps the vampire was right about you."

She stopped, looking over her shoulder at him, "what does that mean?"

"That's hardly a response I would expect from you. Not demanding to know where he is or what he's been up to. For all you know he could be raising another army." She shrugged. "That's exactly my point Helen, you've changed. You've grown morose."

Taking a breath she moved away from him, throwing her last comment over her shoulder, "That's hardly fair, John." But he heard the hitch in her voice, the sob in her throat that wouldn't let itself out. He left her alone.

She didn't see him again until late that night. He leaned in the doorway to her office, studying her. "Helen, it's far too quiet here, where have you sent everyone?"

She stopped suddenly, her body betraying her. "Whatever are you talking about? Everyone in here, no one is on a mission right now." She finally convinced her hand to put the file down that it was clutching at desperately, her eyes moving down to the papers scattered across her desk as she began to stack them accordingly.

"Will, Henry, Kate and that God awful Sasquatch?"

She didn't answer him for a long while, not until he had made his way into the room and was leaning over her on the desk. Stopping and moving her eyes to look into his, he could see the tears that stained her cheeks. "They're all gone. They died years ago." He didn't move any closer or any farther away, waiting for her to continue. "Kate was the first, we were out on a capture and she was thrown into a wall so hard her neck broke. Then my oldest friend, he passed away naturally, age." She shrugged, not taking her eyes off his. "Henry next: kidnapped, ransomed and then stranded. It took us too long to find him. The last was Will." She stopped, not wanting to explain anymore to him.

He stood straight and sauntered over to the cabinet where he knew she kept her liquor. Pouring himself a tumbler and then her one, he sipped at his, leaving hers on the table in front of the couch where he sat. He wouldn't apologize for bringing this up—she knew it would happen. Time just passed differently for then, he wouldn't have noticed in the amount that he'd been gone. Sighing she decided to try once again, "Why are you here, John?"

Swirling the amber liquid in the glass he chose his words carefully. "For treatment."

"Ah." Standing she moved next to him, sitting with her knees together brushing his. "It could easily kill you." He nodded. "Are you sure?" He gave her a look, one easily interpreted. Why would she hold back on this? That which she had wanted for so long.

"I tire of the game, Helen." Another sip. "I want to come home, and stay."

"I'm not sure how much of a home you have here." She had to say it; she had to know that this wasn't only a ploy because he thought she would come running to him as soon as he was fixed.

He understood the subtext, knew exactly what she was thinking. His voice came out so quietly she almost didn't catch it, "I know."

But his answer didn't satisfy her. "I don't know what I can give you—if anything."

His voice rose, the anger was back. "I _know_. Don't you think I've thought this through?"

She didn't answer him at first, taking a moment to allow him to calm down. "Just think about it some more, beside, we need to work on a treatment plan—this will take time." His nod was his only response to her statement as he took her hand and led her back to her bedroom. Shucking his shoes he lay in the bed awaiting her to join him. He expected nothing except this small comfort that she could give him.

It was months until he stormed into her office. She had not worked on a cure and he knew it. He pushed the door open so hard that the knob slammed into the wall behind breaking a hole into the wall. "Helen! How could you!" She had her phone pressed to her ear and she held up a finger to silence him—which only angered him further. While she finished her conversation quickly he stomped over to her computer monitor and punched a few keys pulling up a camera in the SHU.

As soon as she hung up the phone he launched at her again. "What is this, Helen? Hmmm?"

"That is a safe room." She answered coolly.

"Yes, well I spoke with Nikola. You've had this room for twenty years! Twenty years you have had a cure for this and you never once told me? What have you been playing at all this time?" She rose from her desk standing in front of him. "Wanted to see if little Johnny here had it in him to play house with you again?" She didn't speak, didn't make to move. "Or did you just want me to kill you?" Her body tensed at that, her eyes closing. He stopped suddenly. "That's it exactly isn't it? You wanted me to kill you. Helen—" He didn't give her a chance to respond. "You will do this now." Grabbing her hand he teleported them to the small room.

"You could die, John." He only glared taking his shirt off and lying on the rubber bed. The entire room was rubber; the only piece of metal was the defibrillator that stood at attention next to the bed and a small box in the corner. "How did you find this?"

He only glanced at her, "Tesla."

Nodding she moved to the machine and placed the paddles against his chest. "You will die; I don't know that I can revive you." He didn't answer, just waited for her to continue. Pressing the button to her side to charge the machine she waited until it was ready. Drawing in a breath she pressed hard on the red buttons with her thumbs. His body jolted up into the air, his sinus rhythm faltered and stopped completely. She waited for the energy burst that she knew would come from him, pulsating into anything it could find. It found the box that had a slight pulsating electric field driving currents through it. As soon as the entity was fully contained within the box she retrieved it and shut off all electric flow inside, effectively killing the abnormal.

Charging the defibrillator again she squeezed the buttons and paddles against his chest. There was no giant gasp from him drawing in air; there was no sudden wake up from the light. She felt the side of his neck and the light pulse beating regularly. Well, he was alive, technically speaking.

It took him hours to come fully around, she had moved him to the infirmary in the interim and was sitting quietly next to the occupied bed awaiting his return to consciousness. His entire body hurt, ached in places he didn't know could experience pain. But there she was, heavenly in his torment. His eyes fluttered open to her face: fearless and stoically silent before him. "Helen." Her name came out hoarse from his lips. "Did it-?"

"Yes, it worked, it's dead."

Sighing, he snuggled into the pillow on the bed. Not as comfortable as her bed, but still she felt a peace.


End file.
